#more of this

dandelionslute-deactivated20200:

dandelionslute-deactivated20200:

can we all just stop for a moment and imagine jaskier being turned into a vampire,

and there’s nothing they can do to reverse it, and all geralt can do is sit and watch while new-baby-vampire-jaskier burns up and cries and screams as his fangs grow in,

and god it hurts to not be able to help,

until jaskier crawls over to him on the third day, so weak, practically dragging himself across the ground, eyes red and whole body wet with sweat,

please geralt i’m so hungry,

and suddenly there is something he can do to help.

and if he was ever trained to take a vampire’s head clean off with an almighty swing of his sword; he doesn’t remember it now.

not when jaskier asks, begs, pleads -

please geralt i’m so hungry.

imagine if vesemir could see him now,

a whimpering vampire fang-deep in his wrist,

making the sorts of sounds you’d expect from the bard in bed, not the bard drinking red from the wrist of a man trained to destroy his kind.

it stings, but it doesn’t matter.

it’s the first time in three days that jaskier isn’t in tears, and geralt feels like he’s actually helping, even if it is walking a dangerous tightrope.

jaskier grabs at the hand of the arm he’s drinking from, 

folds geralt’s fingers into his palm and lets go, folds fingers into his palm and lets go, folds fingers into his palm and lets go,

and why does it make geralt’s mouth go dry, to know that he’s doing it to get more of his blood

becauseplease geralt i’m. so. hungry.

and jaskier must feel geralt’s gaze on him, because he looks up without taking his mouth from his wrist

and his irises are deep red and his hair is all wet and swept aside and his eyes ask geralt if this is okay while also telling him the answer means nothing.

he needs this.